


poisonous heart

by LostMyHeartToHim



Series: Grindeldore one-shots [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I don't want to give too much away, Kissing, M/M, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 16:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyHeartToHim/pseuds/LostMyHeartToHim
Summary: AU - Travers goes to confront Dumbledore alone. That was his first mistake





	poisonous heart

**Author's Note:**

> All dialogue you can recognise is not mine and belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros
> 
> Please ignore me ignoring my WIP. I promise I'm working on it.

Travers' footsteps echo on the stone floors as he strides through Hogwarts with the particular air of someone who thinks they have every right to be there. A few students that have not yet retreated to their dorms step hastily out of his path, and the portraits trail him with curious eyes. A few of them slip out of their paintings and follow him in search of gossip. It was not every day the Head of the Auror Department visits the castle, after all.

Reaching his destination, Travers barges into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom without bothering to knock.

Albus Dumbledore is standing by the large windows of his classroom, his profile painted silver by the moonlight shining through the windows. In his hands, he is holding a letter, although he is not reading it. Instead, he is gazing out of the windows with a thoughtful frown covering his features. He does not so much as glance at the door when Travers bursts in.

"You do realise that barging into someone's room is considered rude, don't you? If you were my student, I would take points for your alarming lack of manners," Dumbledore says, his gaze still turned to the windows.

"I’m the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and I have the right to go wherever I please," Travers snaps.

Finally turning his head, Dumbledore raises a brow at him over his reading glasses. It makes Travers feel somewhat like a child being scolded by a parent. He bristles at the perceived condescension. He was the Head of the Auror Department, and he refuses to intimated by the likes of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore walks to his desk and places the letter onto it. He taps the wooden surface once, and as soon as he has done so, an empty piece of parchment and a quill fly out of their hiding places and start composing a letter for him.

"It does not give you the right to be rude. But I doubt you are here to receive lessons in manners. Do tell me why you are here, so we can both get on with our evening," Dumbledore says evenly while watching the quill's process.

Travers rolls his eyes and scoffs. Fine by him. "Newt Scamander is in Paris," he says, his eyes tracking Dumbledore's features for a reaction.

Dumbledore raises his head and quirks an eyebrow. "Really?"

Travers grits his teeth. This was proving to be even more annoying than he thought it would be. "Cut the pretence. I know he’s there on your orders."

"If you’d ever had the pleasure to teach him, you’d know Newt is not a great follower of orders," Dumbledore answers and goes back to watching his letter.

Travers digs out a small book from his jacket pocket and tosses it on the desk, straight on top of the letter. Travers smirks as he sees Dumbledore's brow twitching. Dumbledore picks up the book and taps it to clean it from ink stains.

"You’ve read The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus?" Travers asks, indicating the book.

Dumbledore turns the book in his hands, caressing the cover with his thumb. Travers cannot read what little he can see of his expression.

"Many years ago," Dumbledore answers, his voice giving nothing away.

“A son cruelly banished, Despair of the daughter, Return –” Travers starts to recite, carefully observing the Professor's reaction.

Irritation flashes through Dumbledore's face. "Yes, I know it."

"There’s a rumour this prediction refers to the Obscurial. They say that Grindelwald wants –"

Starting to get visibly annoyed, Dumbledore cuts him off, "–a highborn henchman. Yes, I’ve heard the rumour."

"And yet Scamander appears wherever the Obscurial goes, to protect him. Meanwhile, you have built up quite a little network of international contacts," Travers says, an accusatory tone in his voice.

"However long you keep my friends and me under surveillance, you’re not going to discover plots against you, Travers, because we want the same thing: the defeat of Grindelwald," Dumbledore states with barely suppressed coldness, his eyes trained intently on Traver's own, "But I warn you, your policies of suppression and violence are pushing supporters into his arms –"

"I’m not interested in your warnings!" Travers shouts. Taking a deep breath, he brings himself back under control, "Now, it pains me to say it, because–well, I don’t like you."

They both chuckle.

"But… you are the only wizard who is his equal. I need you to fight him," Travers admits, swallowing his pride.

"I cannot," Dumbledore says softly, his gaze trained once again on the letter.

"Because of this?" Travers asks and brings out his trump card. Images of young Grindelwald and Dumbledore fill the space between them. Dumbledore's eyes widen as he looks at them.

It had been quite shocking when his American colleagues had first discovered these images in the memories they had managed to extract from Grindelwald between bouts of torture. Surprising, that is, to everyone but Travers. He had always felt that something else - something sinister - was hiding beneath the respected DADA Professors calm veneer. He just hoped this was all that it was. He hated to admit it, but Dumbledore really was their best hope against Grindelwald.

"You and Grindelwald were as close as brothers," Travers states, his eyes following Dumbledore's every move. Dumbledore's face is blank as he stares at the pictures, but his eyes gleam from - what? Nostalgia? Sorrow? Travers cannot tell. Dumbledore truly is disgustingly adept at hiding his emotions. It was the first thing that had glued Travers to the fact that the Professor was not all that he seemed.

Dumbledore sighs and closes his eyes. "A long time ago, yes."

Travers waits for an elaboration. As it becomes clear one is not forthcoming, he asks again, "Will you fight him?" This would be the final test. If Dumbledore failed this time, he would put him under surveillance for good.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, seeming to consider the question. Soon his shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes as he let out a sigh. "I have a duty to my students, so I didn't want it to be involved in this. But you are right, to not act would be morally reprehensible. I will do it, I will fight him," he says quietly, the last statement seeming to take a lot out of him.  
  
Travers' shoulders released their tension."I'm glad you see sense, Professor," he says, genuinely glad. One powerful Dark Lord was bad enough, two would have been even worse. Especially if the two were working together. Travers shudders at the thought.

Dumbledore nods and gives him a strained smile."Now, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Would you like some tea?" he asks, trying to appear cheerful. He waves his hand, and a plushy armchair appears in front of Travers.

Travers nods, "Yes, thank you," he says gruffly and gingerly takes the offered seat - and the olive branch with it. He tries to keep his posture straight as the chair does its best to swallow him whole.

A tea kettle and two teacups appear on the desk with honey, sugar, cream and some biscuits. Dumbledore pours them both tea.

"Sugar and cream?" Dumbledore asks him as he puts a disturbing amount of sugar cubes to the other cup.

"Just cream, thank you," Travers says, his teeth aching in sympathy. Dumbledore pours cream on the other cup and levitates it to Travers' waiting hands.

"Thank you," Travers says and sips his tea. He's determined to finish fast so he can get out of this situation. He has not felt this awkward since he dined with the Minister and his wife.

They sip their tea in silence, the only sound coming from the quill that's still scratching away at the parchment. Finally, Dumbledore seems satisfied with the letter, and he taps the quill again. The quill immediately stops and flies to wherever it came from. The message folds itself into an envelope, and with another tap of Dumbledore's wand, it vanishes into thin air.

Suddenly, a sharp pain goes through Travers' arm. The teacup flies from his hands, shattering against the floor as he clutches his aching arm. Dumbledore turns his gaze sharply to him.  
  
"Mister Travers? Are you quite alright?" he asks, a concerned frown on his face. Travers grimaces and doesn't answer as the pain starts to travel up his arm to his chest.

"There's- my heart-" he gasps out between desperate breaths. It's getting harder to breathe.

Dumbledore raises from his chair, but instead of coming to his aid, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial. He raises the bottle to the level of his eyes and considers it for a moment, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Funny poison this," he says, his tone casual, "It mimics the symptoms of a heart attack and leaves no traces on the body. I designed it myself. I must say I'm rather proud of it, although I have not had the opportunity to test it before now."

Travers' feels his eyes widen and he rises hastily from his chair. Stumbling, he has to lean against it. His breaths are coming out faster and faster. Harsh coughs rack his body. The pain in his chest is getting unbearable.

Last of his strength leaving him, Travers slumps to the floor. He hears soft footsteps approaching him. Looking up, he glares at Dumbledore, who is still smiling pleasantly at him.

"You- you-" he snarls between his teeth, trying to desperately pull in some air. He starts coughing.

"I am sorry, you know," Dumbledore says, seemingly regretful, "But this - all of this - really is for the greater good. I'm saddened you won't be here to see it." His face darkened, and the air around him seemed to be crackling. "But I do not take threats against my husband or our cause lightly."  
  
Travers has no energy left to answer. His eyes slide closed, and the last thing he hears before darkness swallows him chills him to his bones.

"Really, I should be thanking you, we have wanted a mole within the Ministry for a quite some time."

* * *

Dumbledore looks at the body lying on his office floor, regret filling his thoughts. He shakes his head. Sacrifices have to be made if they are ever to reach their goal. There is no room for regrets.

A whoosh of displaced air sounds behind him. He smiles and turns around.

Gellert strides to him and bends him into a passionate kiss. Albus gasps into his mouth, still beaming.

"Hello, my dear. I've missed you," Gellert says as he pulls away. Albus smiles and caresses his face.

"I've missed you too," he says softly. Behind them, someone clears their throat. Albus blinks and looks at the other person in the room.

"Ah, yes. This is Abernathy, our new acolyte," Gellert says, indicating at the man, "He has been most helpful already. He used to be an Auror, and he has met Travers before. I thought he would be perfect for the job."

Albus regards at the newcomer, amused when he notices how he puffs at Gellert's praise. Gellert always knew how to charm them. He grips at Gellert's arm proprietarily and nods at Abernathy in greeting.

"Well, if Gellert says you are good, I believe it. You know what you must do?" Albus asks him and gestures at the cooling body on the floor.

Abernathy nods, "Yes, Sir."

"Well then get to it. And be sure to leave through the way he came from."

Abernathy nods again and hastily walks to the body. He pulls out multiple hairs and seals them into vials. When he is done, Abernathy stands up and eradicates the corpse with a whispered spell. He then adds a single strand on a different flask and drinks it. His features twist and change, and soon the late Head of the Auror Department is standing in the room with them. Nodding one more time at both of them, he strides out of the door.

As soon as he is gone, Gellert pulls Albus into another kiss. "Have I told you how brilliant you are, Liebling?" he asks between kisses.

Albus laughs, "Not lately, no."

"A clear oversight on my part," Gellert purrs and pushes him against the desk.

* * *

If a student were to look out of their window at that moment, they would see a lone figure walking out of the Hogwarts' doors and disappearing into the night. But no one does, and the gossip of Travers visit fades within days.

Soon, it will seem as if it never happened at all.

**Author's Note:**

> that title tho, I'm so punny
> 
> The letter Albus was holding was from Gellert and Albus wrote his response to it. They don't need owls; they have their own system.
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment! Comments feed my soul <3
> 
> My Tumblr: [bloodtroth](https://bloodtroth.tumblr.com/)


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